Surviving Until My Last Breath
by Harry Albus Potter Dumbledore
Summary: Set during "The Hunter" episode. What if the tree disguise scene didn't happened at all? What if Kincaid knew he wouldn't win the hunt when the halfway mark had passed hours ago? Kincaid taunts Gilligan, telling him that his island family will follow soon after his death, forcing the sailor to sacrifice his life to save the others. Gilligan is the star of this story, not Kincaid.
1. The Ledge

**A/N:** Hey everyone. I want you all to know that while I'm not new to Gilligan's Island since I grew up watching it, I'm new to this fandom, I believe it's called. I never knew there were Gilligan's Island stories until recently and I instantly became hooked after reading a few. To be honest, it wasn't until I read, "Need" and "The Island Prince" by Doll Girl when I decided to watched the Hunter episode on iTunes. That's when I really became head-over-heels in love, with both the episode and Gilligan's character. I always enjoy when Gilligan saves the day or when a particular episode shows how deeply the other Castaways care for him.

Now, in my opinion, I don't consider a fic a story unless it's at least twenty chapters or more. However, I doubt I will succeed with that many chapters. The max might be ten-twelve. We will just have to see.

This story was inspired by a scene at the end of a Disney movie called, "Cadet Kelly," a few Bonanza stories here on FanFiction and, of course, the Hunter episode.

Teobi, this isn't the story I spoke to you about. However, you're welcome to help me out with this mini story as well. The other story was like pulling teeth, I had a hard time getting my thoughts and ideas on paper. I will get back to that story probably after this story is complete.

**Note:** I recently found out I and a few other people here in this fandom had been spelling Kincaid's name wrong. There's a 'c's in it, not an extra 'k's.

I don't own Gilligan's Island. Sherwood Schwartz does. I'm just having fun with his creation. This chapter is edited by my new beta Minch. Thanks for doing this for me.

Sorry for the long a/n. Enjoy the mini story.

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**Chapter One**

_Ginger: "Poor Gilligan, eleven hours and he's still running." _

_Professor: "I'd be happy if he was still alive and walking." _

_Mrs. Howell: "Or crawling!" _

_Skipper: "Yeah, well, a bullet hasn't been made yet with Gilligan's name on it. That guy'll never catch'em. My little buddy is too fast!" _

_-The Hunter _

A sound, so soft the humans would write it off as their imaginations playing tricks on them, hovered in the air. Silence was nowhere to be found at this time of day. There was always some kind of animal making noises in the jungle that the small tropical island housed or the swells of the ocean slamming against the rocks on the shore.

Another sound, the same one in fact, with a slightly louder volume floated higher and higher.

For the third time, the very same sound was heard by anyone and anything that was nearby the location. The sound became clearer and easier to decipher as the volume went up a notch each time the noise was made.

The sound happened to be a moan of pain. Obviously, someone or something on the supposedly deserted, uncharted island was hurt. How bad, no one would know for certain until she or he checked out the source of the noise. However, only the animals living in the jungle and whatever deity was watching from above knew immediately what was causing the noise and how serious the situation was.

For indeed, this was a situation. Not a minor one, as everyone had wished once in their life.

No, the level of the situation was serious. Should no animal or man start searching for whatever was causing the sound, or an animal alert one of his friend's humans about the problem, the situation could easily switch from serious to dire and dire to demise.

Unfortunately, the animals whose considered a friend was the one needing attention and his human friends were currently locked up in their old jail cell, waiting for either the time limit to be up or the sight of the youngest Castaway's lifeless corpse being carried over the hunter's shoulder. Though, the six remaining Castaways prayed with all their might that the former would happen instead of the latter.

For you see, the one called Gilligan was being hunted. Not by a dangerous animal but by a crazy human by the name of Jonathan Lee Kincaid. Kincaid grew tired of hunting animals over the many years of his chosen career and no dangerous, wild, or big game would satisfy the now-constant thirst he craved to bring the fun and interest back into hunting.

That is until his companion, Ramoo, suggested they both go searching for his next prey away from civilization and found the perfect quarry in the bumbling fool of the first mate. The hunter finally found what he had been seeking for years and the endless craving for something new and exciting had finally vanished. Hunting man was a perfect game for hunting and no one had ever done it before.

Until now, that is.

Why he hadn't thought of hunting the most elusive prey there was in the world, a human, until now he would never know. The hunter could have gone after man as his new game years ago! It certainly would have ended his boredom. However, it was pointless to look back at the past and wished you could have said or done something differently. Besides, Kincaid finally realized what his new quarry should be and wasn't going to allow any more time to be wasted.

As for Gilligan, he had to survive this mad scheme of Kincaid's for twenty-four hours. If the young sailor was still alive when the time limit was up, the hunter would bring the seven stranded Castaways back to civilization. As much as the former Navy sailor tried to see the good in everyone, even the monster that was Jonathan Lee Kincaid, he knew deep down inside that the man had no intention of rescuing them. He would have witnesses of his horrendous attempt of murder and obviously wasn't stupid enough to risk the chance of going to jail and ruining his reputation.

Which brings us to the start of our story: the moans and groans filled with pain. Knowing all the facts on why Gilligan – yes, the cry of agony could only be coming from him – was hurt would certainly be understandable once the events leading up to the situation he was currently in became apparent.

For you see, the lovable, clumsy, yet often annoying first mate was lying on a rocky ledge, coming back from unconsciousness from however long he'd been out.

The first thing the sailor became aware of after waking up was the uncontrollable shivering that made his whole body shake. Yet he couldn't figure out why the involuntary action was happening. The youngest Castaway didn't feel cold and the temperature for the day was a normal low eighties degrees Fahrenheit. So why was his body trembling like he'd been out in the snow of the coldest winter for too long?

The second thing Gilligan became aware of was the burning pain that was licking and consuming his own form. It felt like someone had put his body in a fiery pit and was continuing to build up the temperature! His whole figure hurt worse than he had ever felt in his short life, even moving his eyes and eyelids caused himself to ache, like they were attached to the rest of his hurting body.

The final thing the first mate became aware of was the rough and uncomfortable ground beneath him. While sand wasn't a bed of fluffy clouds, Gilligan didn't remember it feeling so hard and rocky from the last time he laid on the tiny pebbles.

Despite the horrible pain every part of his physique was experiencing (and he meant every part), the former Navy sailor opened his eyes and saw the turquoise ocean and sandy white beach in front of him. The youngest Castaway's forehead furrowed in confusion because the level of the beach below seemed closer than he earlier recalled as he tried to put more distance from his tormentor. He slowly closed his eyes and concentrated on the last thing he could remember before waking up, ignoring the endless pounding in his head while he did so. It felt like someone was using his head as a percussion drum. Gilligan placed what little strength he had at his disposal in figuring out the events that had transpired before he was knocked out cold.

Apparently, finding out what had happened wasn't meant to be. The limited strength he had and the new level of pain surging inside of him like a rocket forced him to give up after two minutes of trying. Just the act alone almost caused him to black out again.

All Gilligan wanted to do was lie there, wherever he was, and go to sleep. Maybe if he wasn't awake, the agonizing pain would disappear. But something or someone was stopping the young man from receiving his wish and silently prompting him to discover his exact location. So even with the terrible throbbing his entire body was going through, he slowly turned his form over, for the first mate noticed he was lying on his right side. The sailor winced and bit down hard on his lip to stifle the intense pain that suddenly erupted from the unwelcome movement.

The morning sun was gradually rising in the sapphire blue sky and its white hot rays had already found the youngest Castaway, mercilessly torturing the visible flesh with the heightened heat. Droplets of sweat rolled from his brow and other parts of his frame. The salty drops of liquid caused the stinging as they entered his cuts that Gilligan had received previously as he tried to find shelter to rest and hide from Kincaid.

Gilligan shifted his throbbing head slightly to the left and what he saw made his blue eyes widen in horror.

A rocky cliff was above him, but that wasn't the cause of such terror seen clearly in the young man's eyes. What alarmed him was the distance between the cliff edge and him. The cliff rim was at least a hundred feet above him.

A jolt of realization flashed inside the sailor's head and his earlier attempt at discovering what happened before he had passed out finally became clear. Now he really wished he could have continued being oblivious to his exact location if it would halt the panic bubbling to the surface.

The first mate had fallen over the edge of the cliff accidently with Kincaid after the hunter confronted him and provoked him with his awful words involving the other Castaways. With the help of his senses, the youngest Castaway gathered from the limited information he had that he must have landed hard on his right side on the ledge below the cliff, which saved him from instant death and was now holding him prisoner until help arrive.

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**A/N: **What did you all think? Was my first try at writing a Gilligan's Island story successful or did it stink like my cat's breath? Let me know in a review.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed twenty-two stories of Gilligan being the star of the show. Well, make that twenty-three since I will be adding this story to it.


	2. The Memory

**A/N:** Thanks everyone who read and reviewed the story. I'm happy to know everyone, other than myself, is enjoying this new twist to the Hunter episode. Your reviews mean a great deal to me. I would also like to thank those who participated in my GI poll involving the next chapter. I will mention those pennames who gave me suggestions in the next chapter since they deserved to be recognized.

**Note:** I would also like to inform you all that I change the title and summary of this story a little bit as I thought both didn't sound or fit right with the story. Finally, this chapter is a flashback/memory of what happened before Gilligan fell off the cliff. Oh, and I recently found out I and a few other people here in this fandom had been spelling Kincaid's name wrong. There's a 'c's in it, not an extra 'k's.

**Warning:** a small mention of religion and torture and hints of rape. Plus, a small part indicating a character's death. No worries, though, as Gilligan is still alive as we obviously see from Chapter One.

I don't own Gilligan's Island, But Sherwood Schwartz does. I'm only play with his characters. This chapter was edited by my new beta, Minch. Thanks a lot for putting up with my horrible grammar mistakes.

Sorry for the long a/n. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Two**

**The Memory**

_Gilligan hadn't stopped running since the last time Kincaid almost managed to get him with his bullet. The former Navy sailor was a fast runner and a very good one at that, but all of this exercise was making him extremely tired. Not to mention the lack of sleep he had the night before. Every time the first mate tried to close his eyes, he would see an image of the hunter, who was about ready to accept his prize. That prize was his dead body. However, someone from above must have been looking out for the youngest Castaway because he managed to obtain four hours of sleep in the cave where he earlier decided to rest for a while. That cave happened to be the very same one he had lived in when he decided to be a lone wolf._

_Despite the small amount of sleep and weariness, the hunted Castaway knew he had to keep running. Run like his life depended on it. Because it really did._

_A few hours ago, after he left the cave where he slept, he proceeded to pick some fruit for an early and quick breakfast. The former Navy sailor made the mistake of not observing his surroundings, because if he did, he would have seen Kincaid huddling beside some foliage, aiming his hunting gun at his target. If it wasn't for the first mate moving a few seconds before without the man knowing, Kincaid could have won the hunt right then and there. Yeah, that's how close Gilligan came to receiving a bullet in his body._

_ As much as his instincts were telling him to keep moving, (they were usually right when it came to danger) the first mate had to rest for a few minutes. He had been running for hours now and his lean form made its protest known that it couldn't take much more without resting. _

_So the young man halted, his back pressed tightly against the palm tree as he sucked large gulps of air into his gasping lungs. His chest hurt from the heavy breathing that he had been doing. His lungs were now receiving the oxygen they needed to survive, but they felt like they were on fire at the moment. The lone Castaway allowed his head to slump all the way back, his lips partially opened as he fought to bring his panting under control. It was useless though, he was winded and his body was so worn out that the exhausted sailor felt as if he could not run another yard, let alone escape the deranged man who was intent on hunting him down like an animal. _

_Anyone who met the first mate briefly would probably describe him as dumb and too friendly. While the latter might be true since he made a point to be friends with everyone, the former wasn't. Sure, Gilligan struggled in school and it took him a little longer to understand something, but he was actually a very intelligent young man, once you got to know him more than five minutes. He may not be academically smart, but he was intelligent when it came to animals and nature. Because of that, he made friends with the animals instantly and knew the layout of the island as if it was written on the back of his hand._

_Now, totally drained of strength, hungry, thirsty (he never had his breakfast), and aching, the young sailor wasn't sure he was going to last the final eight hours left of the hunt. His clothes were still soaking wet when he had run through the waterfall to hide out in another one of his many hiding spots about an hour ago. No one knew about it but Gilligan. Luckily, this wasn't the waterfall they used for bathing or else his secret hiding spot wouldn't have been a secret anymore. However, his clothes were the only thing wet now, unless you count the moisture on his hot and sweaty face. Somehow the water managed to seep in his shoes as he hastily went through and was now sloshing around inside, making his feet damp and sore. The former Navy sailor pulled the tail of his red shirt from the waist band of his light blue jeans and leaned against some rough rock, trying to dry the perspiration from his face._

_A gunshot was heard close by and the youngest Castaway's head snapped up, his eyes frantically searching for any movement that might alert him to any danger. But there was nothing for him to see because the first mate was still behind the waterfall and the water wasn't clear enough for him to see through. Despite Gilligan being safe at the moment in his well-hidden spot, he froze against the rocky wall, ears perked up, listening intently for any footsteps or other sounds signaling him that someone was coming._

_Gilligan didn't hear another sound for quite some time, so he thought he was safe again. However, just to be on the safe side, he was going to be overly cautious and keep a good eye out for any movement around him. After all, Kincaid could be lurking behind more foliage or a tree, preparing to shoot at him again._

_"I better get a move on or else Kincaid will _really_ find me here," the young sailor said aloud to himself, putting a stop to the reminiscing that he had been doing for the past few minutes involving the waterfall._

_The first mate gave one last look at the palm tree before taking off once again in the jungle. His legs ached, the bones in his knees seemed to tighten up on him, and it was all he could do to keep going forward. Determined to escape the hunter that was probably a few miles behind him, Gilligan pushed on with the hunt. _

**_(An Hour Later)_**

**_-7 hours left -_**

_After drinking some fresh water and eating a banana and mango, the youngest Castaway sat down in the white sand and leaned his back heavily against one of the several large boulders surrounding his new hiding spot. He laid his hands on his thighs and took a few deep breaths. He was resting at the moment, which was risky. Every minute the sailor was stationary was an extra minute in which Kincaid could discover him. _

_Gilligan's life was on the line, even more now he was resting. However, the first mate knew he wouldn't make it much longer without the nutrients and liquids his body was demanding urgently to have. So the former Navy sailor found another spot to hide and rest, which – lucky for him – happen to be one of the few areas where the water was fresh. _

_He filled up the canteen he had stolen from the hunter earlier when the man was resting on a knoll and quickly took several mouthfuls of the delicious water. After, the youngest Castaway capped the container and set it down beside him before taking the fruit he managed to grabbed a few minutes ago and hurriedly consumed the food. Now that he had liquids and food in his system, he was feeling a little better. Not much, but enough to energize him for a small amount of time._

_Suddenly, a shot loudly rang out, nearly clipping Gilligan on his left arm. The sailor searched for the source of the noise around him, but saw nothing as he quickly moved behind the boulder for cover. Once he was safely behind the huge rock, the youngest Castaway inspected his left extremity. The bullet had ripped the long sleeve on his shirt, but other than that as he rolled up the left sleeve from his limb; the shot had done little damage to him. The first mate allowed a long sigh of relief to escape from his mouth and was just about to take off again when the sound of Kincaid's voice stopped him in his tracks and made his blood freeze inside his veins. _

_"Hey, Gilligan!" the hunter called out mockingly. "I thought you could do better than this! You have really disappointed me during this hunt, letting me get close enough to you almost every time." _

_The youngest Castaway heard the man laugh. It was a sinister sound that almost caused him to lose his recently consumed meal and made the hair on the back of his neck and arms stand up. "This is what I will do. I'll give you another head start, but this will be your last safe card. Use the extra time wisely, kid." The sound of his footsteps as they crunched whatever was beneath his boots traveled to the sailor behind his rock. The hunter was close. As to how close, he didn't know without checking, and Gilligan was smart enough to know the man wouldn't hold back should a body part become visible. "I will count to fifty. You have until then before I shoot again. This time, Gilligan, I promise you I won't miss. I'm counting now: One, two, three…"_

_The former Navy sailor jumped to his feet, grabbed the canteen, and began making his way through the foliage growing in the jungle. He ran as fast as he possibly could, intent on putting as much distance between himself and his pursuer as he could. In his haste in getting away, the first mate wasn't paying enough attention to completely avoid the palm fronds and bushes and felt them as they snagged his clothes. Instead of the small prick one would feel should they get poked by a branch or thorn, Gilligan felt like they were ripping his skin apart as they tore harshly at the fabric of his red shirt and the flesh of his body. However, the sailor paid no attention to the uncomfortable pain._

_Both sleeves and pants legs were now ruined and the youngest Castaway could feel the drops of blood as they seeped slowly down his appendage, yet he never took the time to look. Fear, not only for himself, but for the lives of his island family – because Gilligan considered them to be more than friends – forced him to push ahead. _

_He had two goals. The first was to, at all cost, survive until noon, which was still less than seven hours away. The second was to protect his family by continuing to run and, when the time came, try his hardest to be a buffer between Kincaid and the other Castaways. The young sailor knew once the man got him, he would soon go after his family, instantly breaking his promise of only hunting one of them. Or should Gilligan somehow survive this horrible ordeal, he doubted the hunter would give up the chance to shoot one of them, even when the time limit was up. _

_No, he must protect his island family. He would willingly pay any price in order to keep them safe from harm._

_Even if it meant giving up his life for them._

**_(Fifteen Minutes Later)_**

**_-7 hours and 45 minutes left- _**

_Gilligan's speed was slowing down greatly as fatigue was setting in, yet he forced himself to keep running. The beads of sweat from running dripped down his forehead and into his ocean blue eyes, causing his vision to blur. He quickly wiped his face clean, but it didn't do much good in the end. More droplets of perspiration ran into his eyes soon after the first._

_The former Navy sailor continued to push on. Before he knew it, the trees and plants weren't hiding him anymore and, as the first mate looked over his right shoulder, saw the thick foliage and the jungle behind him. Since he was so familiar with the island, which they have been on for almost three years now, the youngest Castaway knew he was near the cliffs and only a few miles away from the lagoon and camp. His breathing was labored, his lungs burned and his legs and feet felt heavy and sore from all the running he had done lately._

_A sound of a rifle going off was heard somewhere in the distance. The sailor could hear the bullet flying through the air before it found its target. Gilligan dropped the canteen and fell, the leafy green grass covering the top of the cliff preventing him from becoming hurt worse and stopping any noises his form would have made as he hit the ground. The first mate lay dazed, the wind knocked out his burning lungs before intense pain exploded in his arm, snapping him back to his senses. He grabbed his left extremity and cried out in anguish as both pain and blood spread rapidly. This time Kincaid's bullet didn't miss and, from the looks of it as the youngest Castaway examined his arm, the bullet was imbedded deeply in his limb. _

_Gilligan lay on the ground for a minute, sucking in much-needed air to fill his deflated lungs and hoping it would lessen the horrible pain somewhat. It succeeded in the former but failed greatly in the latter. _

_As he tried to rise to his feet, the pain from his wounded appendage sent daggers of agony throughout his already-hurting and tired figure. The young sailor moaned loudly in pain and hot tears welled up in his eyes, but they never fell. He may be hurting, but the young man adamantly refused to show his weakness to Kincaid. The guy was a monster and the former Navy sailor wasn't going to allow the hunter to use his weakness against him. _

_ "Please, whoever is listening right now, help me. My family needs me to be able to get through this alive and I know I can't make it much longer. I'm tired, so tired," the first mate prayed, whispering the words so his tormentor or anyone else nearby wouldn't overhear him. The former Navy sailor wasn't a religious person, but that didn't mean he was an atheist either. He believed in God and His works, he just didn't practice as often as he should. But right now, Gilligan needed help and the only person who could help was Him. Besides, praying couldn't hurt him any worse than he already was._

_He slowly and gently hauled his frame up from the ground, trying his best to ignore the hot flare of pain speeding through his arm and, in the end, his whole physique. Furthermore, Gilligan tried his best to ignore the warm, wet, red fluid flowing from his wound and falling on his pants, sneakers, and the ground, but he wasn't having much luck, especially when the sticky body fluid began seeping into his clothes. _

_The first mate shakily stood on his feet and quickly surveyed his surroundings, freezing like a statue when his eyes caught sight of his tormentor casually leaning against a palm tree and staring at him with a wicked smirk on his face. Kincaid let out an evil laugh and the sailor's heart skip several beats as the man aimed his gun directly at him. _

_"Well, Gilligan, it seems like your time is officially up," Kincaid taunted the Castaway as he strutted closer. "You have nowhere to go, and now I must end the hunt…by killing my prey."_

_The young man wobbled dangerously on his feet, all energy he had left inside draining away instantly and causing him to be on the verge of collapsing. "You're crazy," Gilligan stated with a rare sign of anger heard clearly in his voice. "You won't get away with this. Once the others find out you've killed me, they won't let you leave the island alive, I can assure you of that," he said confidently, hoping the fury in his voice was completely covering the fear he was feeling. The first mate didn't want the man to know he was afraid of Kincaid, especially now that he knew his time on this island was almost up._

_"You're wrong, Gilligan," his tormentor replied with excitement and bloodlust in his eyes, making the youngest Castaway sick to his stomach. "I will get away with this…because there won't be anyone to rat me out. Oh yes," Kincaid continued on with a wicked laugh that increased in volume when he saw the frightened expression that accidently appeared on the young man's face, "I can see the answer in your eyes and you're correct. Once I'm through with you, I'm going after your friends."_

_While the hunter was making his little speech, the former Navy sailor was inconspicuously edging around him, so his back wasn't facing the cliff that was only a few feet away. Kincaid didn't seem to notice Gilligan's subtle movements or the fact that his own form unconsciously kept turning with the sailor's, making sure he was facing the young man and not the rocky cliff._

_Whatever blood was left in the first mate's face was certainly gone now along with any color, leaving him pale and terrified at his tormentor's new revelation. The former Navy sailor had hope and prayed fervently that, should the man managed to get him, he wouldn't go straight after his island family. Instead, he hoped (which was in his nature to do)that the hunter would immediately take his companion and depart from the island, never once looking back at his family or the hurt and destruction he callously left behind. _

_But now…now his worst fear was being confirmed. Gilligan was afraid, not so much for himself – his time was up and he accepted that his death was near - but the lives of his family who he deeply cared about. The young sailor never told the other Castaways this, but he looked up to them. Actually, there were so many things he wanted to say and now wouldn't have the chance to. Like how he wished he had the Professor as his teacher during his school years or having such amazing parental figures in Mr. and Mrs. Howell and the Skipper. The sailor wished he could tell Ginger that she was the first movie star he had met in person and how much of an older sister she was to him. And Mary Ann, sweet Mary Ann. How he wished he could tell her that she was the sweetest girl he had ever met and that he treasured their friendship above all the gold in the world. _

_"I'm going to let you decide, Gilligan."_

_"Let me decide on what, exactly?" the young man asked in confusion._

_Kincaid rolled his eyes in exasperation before answering the former Navy sailor's question. "On who should go first, dimwit! Do you think that big oaf of a captain should be the first one with a bullet in his heart? Or maybe one of the blue-blood rich couple with a lovely hole between the eyes?"_

_"Shut up," the first mate whispered, horrified at what the man would possibly do to his family. His form trembled in alarm, disgust, and exhaustion as the rifle was still pointed at his heart._

_But the hunter didn't hear him as he was lost in his sick fantasy of what killing the other six members of the Minnow would look like and how each would meet their demise. After all, there was more than one way to end a life._

_"What about the Professor? Should he go first? Maybe have him undergo a session of torture by me and ending the lesson with the help of a few bullets in his head. That should deflate that big brain of his," the man continued on, mocking the young man with his future plans._

_"Stop it," Gilligan said a little louder, irritation emerging in his voice, yet the sick man still didn't hear him, despite there being only several inches between them. The young man's eyes sought Kincaid's, the haunted look in those deep brown eyes disturbed him tremulously and the image seared itself in the former Navy sailor's memory for the short time he had left._

_"How about the two girls, hmm? Maybe you would like them to go first, save them from watching their friends die in front of them." Kincaid paused, head cocked to the side with a thoughtful expression on his menacing face. He focused his attention back on the young man several seconds later with a glint in his evil eyes. "You know what? I think I might just torture all of them before killing them, and I assure you, Gilligan, their deaths will be slow and painful as possible. As for the movie star and the farm girl, I think I will shoot them last, but not without having…some fun…with them first. Just imagine, Gilligan, the terrified looks on their pretty little faces, knowing I will have them and no one would be able to save them from me. And maybe I could…" But the hunter never got the chance to finish his sentence._

_In that instant, the first mate charged at the man, catching him off-guard for a few seconds. Little did either realize in that moment the small distance between them and the edge of the cliff as both had their focus otherwise occupied. "SHUT UP, I SAID!" Gilligan yelled, enraged as he plowed head first into his tormentor, knocking the man and Gilligan's white sailor hat to the ground, the gun still in its owner's hand._

_The hunter quickly stood up and prepared himself, ready for the young man this time. Once again, the former Navy sailor charged at Kincaid. Only this time a few things were different than the first. For one, the man didn't fall and hit the ground as the young Castaway attacked him with physique and right fist. Another was that both men were dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. This time as the sailor punched his tormentor in the abdomen, causing the hunter to lean forward in sudden pain and grab tightly onto the young sailor's injured limb, which made Gilligan gasped in pain. The final thing that was different was that rocks broke apart under Kincaid's feet, causing him to fall down the cliff's rocky side, there was the sound of a rifle firing and the hunter's extremity still attached to Gilligan, forcing the young man to plummet over the cliff with him._

_"AGHHH…!" Their blood-curdling screams hung in the air as they fell to their deaths and after barely three seconds later, a loud thud and ripping sound was heard along with the sickening sound of bones breaking. _

_The first mate's last thought after the right side of his head slammed into a sharp rock, causing his vision to blur and tiny black spots to appear, was of his island family, his love for them, and his last goodbye._

_His vision went dark and Gilligan left the world of reality behind probably for the last time as he succumbed to unconsciousness. _

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A/N: Don't kill me, please! Like I said in the above author's note, Gilligan is **not** dead, it's just seems like he is. In Gilligan's mind, he thinks this is his last time on Earth, and that he will wake up in Heaven. However, we all know that he will still be on the island when he wakes up. Please review and let me know what you think of the story or what I can do to improve/fix it and any errors. Oh, before I forget, please give me suggestions in a review or pm on what Gilligan would be interested in learning from the Professor should he survive his injuries and escape from his rocky prison.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed twenty-three stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	3. The Aftermath

**A/N:** Surprise! Two chapters in a week. I either love you all or my muse is willing to work with me on this little story of mine. Actually, I think it's both. Now don't get used to getting fast updates. I'm afraid the next one won't be posted for a while since I'm getting ready for finals at college and attending my sister-in-law's graduation in May. Plus, I now have a Beta for this story. Yay! And they need time to get caught up. So I hope this chapter satisfies you for the time being.

I would like to thank all those who participated in my poll for this story. I would also like to thank **dabzzygirl**, **K9grmingTwihard**, **Teobi**, and **Magenta-Skye** for their suggestions on what injuries Gilligan received from his long fall. If I missed your name, please let me know and I will put it up with the others.

**Note:** I'm not a doctor or have a job in any medical profession nor have I broken anything in my body. I have done as much research as I can on Gilligan's injuries in order to make this story as realistic as possible. If you have more knowledge of these injuries and I put down something wrong, please let me know and I will fix it. Furthermore, I don't know how many injuries you have to sustain or how serious they have to be in order to be life-threatening. Because of that, Gilligan's condition might not be as realistic as I would like. And for that, I apologize.

**Warning:** One or two mentions of God and probably one graphic image of one of Gilligan's many injuries.

Finally, I don't own _Gilligan's Island_, But Sherwood Schwartz does. I'm only play with his characters. This chapter has now been edited by my beta, Minch. Thank again.

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**Chapter Three**

**The Aftermath**

_Oh my God! _was the only repeated thought in Gilligan's head as his ocean-blue eyes stared in horror at the high cliff above him. His heart was thumping wildly at not only discovering the long distance he fell, but the recollection he now had of what happened before he went over, making his chest hurt and breathing difficult.

_Okay, don't panic, Gilligan, _he silently told himself. _Whatever happens, _do not_ panic. Panicking won't help the situation you're in._

To halt the panic that was still rising despite the young man's command, he focused his attention away from the cliff. The first thing the first mate needed to do was examine himself. By doing so, he would see if he had sustained any injuries from his long fall.

Now that the young sailor had something to keep himself busy with, at least for a short while, he started with his legs. His eyes locked on his lower limbs, as well as he could see by lifting only his head up a few inches. Gilligan didn't wait to risk moving around without making sure everything was in working order, so only his head shifted so he could carry out the self-imposed task.

The youngest Castaway first moved his right extremity a little, taking note instantly that everything appeared to be fine from what he could see in his current position. No horrible pain. No unnatural bends. No blood. Nothing. Just bruises of various sizes showing up on his appendage, seen through the holes of his light blue jeans.

The first mate knew better than to be prematurely relieved as he still had other parts of his body to check over. If there were no other injuries after his self-examination, then he could allow the relief he felt to show. However, the former Navy sailor needed to continue and hopefully find out why his form was still trembling like crazy despite the high temperatures.

Next, the young man shifted his left leg slightly. The moment he did, burning pain soared up his limb, causing him to gasp in surprise and discomfort. From what he could see through his torn and shredded pants leg and current position, his left extremity was in an awkward angle it shouldn't be in, the bone visibly pressing against his fair skin. The sight made Gilligan slightly sick to his stomach.

Obviously his appendage was broken. How many breaks, the first mate didn't know and wouldn't know until help arrived for him. Besides, he very much preferred not to look at his injured leg any more than he had to. The young sailor wished to keep what little food he had in his abdomen rather than expelling it and any remaining energy he had left. Luckily, there was no blood around his limb, which meant there were no cuts, scraps, or gashes. However, the lone Castaway did see several ugly bruises forming on his flesh.

Gilligan decided to check his arms next after looking at his legs. Since the former were closer than the latter, all he had to do was turned his head sideways to see instead of raising his head. The first mate's head shifted to the right and spotted the unnatural shape of his shoulder.

He had a dislocated shoulder. The injury probably happened when his right side slammed into the ledge from such a long height and rapid speed, causing his shoulder to pop out of its socket. The first mate bit his lip hard (thankfully it wasn't injured, but probably would be by the time he got off this ledge) to stifled the groan as pain flared up every five seconds around some part of his form. Unfortunately, the young man wasn't able to stop the wince when the next round of hurting came his way.

Furthermore, Gilligan saw the thin, shallow cuts and scrapes in various sizes covering the skin heavily from the palm frondsand bushes he had unsuccessfully avoided earlier. Only a small amount of blood trickled out of the cuts and the cuts appeared to have stopped bleeding a while ago. Ugly bruises were beginning to show on his fine skin, causing the young sailor to stop and wonder when he had received them during the hunt. He certainly didn't remember bumping into any rocks or anything that could create those nasty things. And you think a person would, especially from the looks of how unpleasant and painful they were.

Unless, _he thought as realization hit him,_ he didn't get those bruises during the hunt but when he fell and that's why he couldn't remember. It was possible he could have hits some rocks on his way down.

Then he turned his head to the left, feeling the sticky substance of blood before seeing it as the vital life source continued to flow slowly from the bullet wound in the middle of his forearm. Now that the former Navy sailor's memory of the hunt had come back, he remembered examining the arm wound before the event at the cliff occurred. However, the injured Castaway still looked at his left extremity, noticing the small hole and the increasing pool of the red body fluid on the rocky ground. His appendage was littered heavily in shallow cuts, scrapes, and bruises with small amounts of dried blood sticking unpleasantly near the areas where the flesh was open.

A bit of fluid slowly trickled down from the first mate's forehead, down his nose until it dropped to the side where the substance approached the tip. That's when the young man discovered that the substance was blood. After his startling find, more of the blood appeared, sliding down his nose, under his eyes, and down across his paling cheeks.

As the young Castaway's left arm rose shakily in the air, intending to move it to his head, his entire figure shook violently once again. After the shivers halted, a wave of confusion, dizziness, and pain surged through him and lasted only a few minutes. If the sailor wasn't adamant on finishing the examination of his physique, he would have lost the fight against the lightheadedness and fainted straightaway.

Once the spell of dizziness was over, yet the pain continued to rage on, Gilligan focused (or tried to focus as best as he could with whatever was wrong with him) on the task he set for himself a few minutes ago. However, his plan was stopped once again, by himself this time. Something on the tips of his fingers caught the first mate's eye and he turned his attention to it. Immediately, he noticed his fingernails were bluish and his arm was pale, cold, and clammy.

The young sailor didn't know what was wrong with him, but had a feeling that whatever it was it couldn't be good. _And why, _the Castaway thought before pausing as another tremble of cold and pain racked his frame, _am I shaking like a leaf in a windy day? Why am I bleeding from my forehead? What happened to me? Did I cut my forehead when my head landed on the rock and that's why I'm seeing blood? And why am I cold in eighty degrees weather and having such a hard time breathing?_

His extremity finally reached his forehead and his digits shifted gently around the area, trying to find the cause of his bleeding. The search didn't last very long. About thirty seconds later was when he received answers to some of his questions. Above his right eyebrow was a wide and deep gash, which was where all the blood was coming from. Furthermore, the first mate felt a few small cuts on the left side of his face and dampness on his skin.

The sailor's head began to pound in tune with the pain and shivers, forcing the young man to inform the world of his agony by moaning loudly. Even though he was in horrible pain, though most of the time he wasn't trying to show it, Gilligan resumed his examination, hoping to finish soon because the strong feelings to vomit and faint had appeared once again.

Fighting off the urge to do either of the aforementioned things, the first mate slowly and gently shifted his left appendage down from his forehead, over his face and neck, and finally rested on his chest. Excruciating, almost consuming pain erupted where his hand gently lay; causing him to gasp out sharply, his breaths shallow since breathing was difficult at the moment.

_Actually, come to think about it,_ he observed, _I haven't breathed normally since I woke up on this awful ledge._

He realized he had trouble breathing a few minutes ago but assumed the reason was the terrible pain bothering him every few seconds and would return back to normal soon enough. But he still wasn't breathing properly and the simple action cause agonizing pain in his chest. Even an idiot, which some people thought Gilligan was, knew what those particular symptoms meant.

_Great!_ the young sailor thought somewhat bitterly. _Just what I needed, I could possibly have broken or bruised ribs. Or could the ribs be dislocated? Can that even happen? What more injuries could I have?_

In his short twenty-one years of life, the lone Castaway should have known by now that your bad fortune would increase with that single phrase. And fate or whoever it was that controlled that type of thing proved just then that saying that simple phrase really did make things worse.

As Gilligan lowered his hand down towards his stomach, he felt something…weird …that caused his insides to churn. His fingers first touched a small hole made in the front of his shirt. While the first mate toyed nervously with the frayed edges of the fabric, his digits came in contact with a sticky, wet substance surrounding the area of the circle. It was also flowing down and off of him. Ever since he started his self-examination, the former Navy sailor had quickly become accustomed to what blood felt like.

The young Castaway tried to shift the material a little, to find out what occurred and why his shirt had a circle in front of his belly, but the shirt wouldn't budge as it was glued to his flesh with dried blood. He gave up on moving the fabric since the movement pulled at his skin, causing unnecessary discomfort to him. Instead, he anxiously slid two fingers through the circle of the material and felt as they came in contact with his white skin. The young man slowly moved his fingers around on his flesh, searching.

That's when his digits came upon something so…so horrible and frightening that he would never wish on anybody, even his enemies if he had any, with the injury he recently found. If his situation on the ledge and the injuries he discovered wasn't serious enough, it was now. Perhaps dire even.

The first mate knew from where his fingers laid on his abdomen that he wasn't touching his bellybutton, though he fervently wished he was. Anything than what he suspected was the cause of the hole in the shirt and blood flowing from his stomach. However, his wish wasn't granted and he wasn't touching his bellybutton. Besides, why would his bellybutton bleed?

What the former Navy sailor assumed he was feeling was something very, very abnormal and sickening. As much as he didn't want to confirm what he suspected, he knew he had to find out. So with an unpleasant mix of sickness, alarm, and pain raising inside him, the young man lifted his head from the ground and glanced down at his abdomen. If the other Castaways saw Gilligan at that very moment, they would have seen expressions of disgust and horror on his sweaty face, a green tint to his skin, and the young man mentally distancing himself from the urgent situation.

His head came in contact with the rough ground beneath it not even a minute later. The first mate turned his head to the right and threw up whatever was left inside his stomach, finally losing the fight. The involuntary spasms from puking caused the pain to intensify, overwhelming him and forced him into unconsciousness.

For the young Castaway saw something that he thought he would never see. That he had hoped to never see.

When Kincaid's gun fired for the last time as they both fell off that cliff, the hunter wasn't the recipient of the bullet. No, the sailor received that honor. Or was it dishonor? Depends on whatever side you looked at it. Anyway, he discovered that the final bullet which discharged from the rifle ended up in the lower part of his abdomen. And not only did he see copious amounts of blood, but he also saw slivers of something visible from the wound. Probably muscles, a vital organ, or something equally as important that was found in that area.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the cave where the rest of the Castaways were locked up in their own jail cell, silence was pressing down upon them like a heavy boulder. No one uttered a word in the last hour or so as each member was lost in his or her unhappy thoughts. Of course, their depressing thoughts didn't stay in the cave with them, but traveled with the seventh member of their little group as he try his best to beat Kincaid at his own sick little game.

The six Castaways felt utterly helpless with the horrendous situation that was befalling Gilligan at the moment. All of them would have given anything if it meant they could escape their jail cell and aide the first mate during the hunt. But they couldn't and they were stuck there in the cave until either the twenty-four hour mark was up or…God help them…Kincaid showed up with the young sailor slung over one of his broad shoulders, lifeless and cold.

All they could do right now was wait and hope. Hope that the youngest Castaway of the shipwrecked _Minnow_ would overcome this awful hunt and any obstacle that may come in the near future. Hope that their spirits were with the former Navy sailor so he wouldn't have to be totally alone in this awful ordeal.

But most of all, the others hoped that once this nightmare was over, they could deal with whatever damage the hunter inflicted on Gilligan. The six members weren't idiots; they knew that this nightmare was far from being over. Actually, it was just beginning. Making sure the young man was physically fine wouldn't take very long. But when it came to an emotional and mental state, well that was a whole different story. Finding any problems in the two states could take days, weeks, possibly months to figure out. Not to mention, discovering and applying the right cure to whatever problems the first mate may have.

Until the rest of them were with the loveable sailor, they didn't know what they were dealing with. But they hoped that whatever it was, no matter how long it may take, all of them would get through this together without losing Gilligan to himself in the rough road ahead of him.

Hope and wait.

That's all they could do.

* * *

A/N: How did I do? I thought this chapter was a little boring, especially as I wrote it. If you thought the same then I'm sorry. The next chapter will be better, I promise. More insight into the other Castaways will be shown in the upcoming chapters. However, you won't see them until chapter five, though.

Please review and let me know what you think of the story or what I can do to improve the story.

Announcement from _Panhead13_: There's almost 400 stories in the GI fanfiction archive. When I first checked it in February or March, it only had 316 fanfics. I was thinking it'd be cool if we could have 500 fanfics on this site by the 50 anniversary of GI this year. I'm calling it the "500 by 50" challenge.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed twenty-six stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	4. The Hunter That Couldn't Hunt Anymore

**A/N:** Well, here another chapter for you, my dear readers. I'm officially out of school for the summer and have a little more to write and read. However, I'm heading out of state to attend my sister-in-law's Graduation this weekend and thought I better post this chapter before I leave.

**Note:** I'm not a doctor and as much research as I try to do, I won't pretend I know what I'm talking about. I'm trying my best to keep this story as realistic as possible, but there will be times (like with the huge amount of blood Gilligan is losing for example) where the part of the story won't be realistic. I'm taking liberties on the long list of injuries and the blood loss. Like I said before, I'm no doctor and I have never been in this kind of situation before. I would also like to add that since this is sort of an AU story, I took a certain item and name and mentioned it here in the chapter. I know _Our vines Have Tender Apes _episode took place after _The Hunter_. However, in order for the story plot in the upcoming chapters to make sense, that particular episode took place before _The Hunter_.

**Warnings:** Possible graphic image of Kincaid.

I don't own _Gilligan's Island_, But the wonderful Sherwood Schwartz does. I'm just having fun playing with his characters. This chapter has been edited by my amazing beta, Minch. Thank for putting up with all of my grammar mistakes. You rock!

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**The Hunter That Couldn't Hunt Anymore**

Gilligan awoke to the sounds of the waves coming from the turquoise ocean as they crashed down upon each other and topical birds screeching and cawing loudly in the palm trees. He could smell the saltiness of the water as it floated on a breeze coming in his direction. The first mate tasted lingering remains of the fruit he had consumed earlier and something else on his tongue. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to name the unpleasant taste left over in his mouth.

The answer came like a bolt of lightning in a severe thunderstorm, resulting in his eyes snapping open. Only for the young sailor to shut them tightly several seconds later because the golden yellow ball of heat blinded him. He waited a minute, the bright light slipping through his close eyelids before slowly opening them again, giving his eyes plenty of time to adjust.

A faint look of confusion appeared in the Castaway's eyes as a grimace of pain and nasty flavor remained on his slightly parted lips. He noticed the sun has risen a little in the cloudless blue sky, but couldn't remember glancing at it earlier. The former Navy sailor felt like he had "lost time" or something. He couldn't really explain it with words, it was just too difficult.

Gilligan did know he blacked out after he discovered his stomach wound. He didn't know how long he was out, though. But before he went unconscious, he puked up his food and water beside him, if the horrid smell and memory was correct. He also recalled pretty much everything else that happened earlier, besides the time lapse, of course.

A wince crawled up his slightly battered and bruised face. As sweat dripped into his cuts and eyes, a burning sensation emerged. Unfortunately, the first mate couldn't wipe all of the moisture away since the liquid appeared every few seconds and the repeated movement would tire him out fast. Furthermore, he didn't know if he had broken, dislocated, or just bruised his ribs. And how many ribs was it? So he didn't want to move around too much and risk a rib or two puncturing a lung or something equally as important. Most of the time, all he could do was blink his eyes several times in a rapid fashion and try to ignore the sharp stinging feeling.

The obviously injured Castaway swallowed hard as his gaze landed on the edge of the cliff above him. He didn't need to glance around to know he was alone, which bothered him greatly. He knew without a doubt that even if he wasn't badly injured, escaping from the ledge was still impossible. The former Navy sailor didn't have a rope and the distances upwards and downwards were just too far apart for him. Add his numerous injuries to the mix and you have a task that was completely impossible to achieve.

The first mate's thoughts raced wildly. _How do I get out of here? I'm a few miles from camp and the others can't help me until they are free from jail, however long that might be._

His heart beat rapidly with fear; the fingers on his right hand touched the puddle of blood growing beside him and the rocky surface of the ledge that held him prisoner. Gilligan felt the hot pain that ran like shock waves up and down the length of his body. The young sailor was paralyzed with fear. Fear of what could possibly happen to him before he was found. A violent shiver raced down his body, causing him to gasp in agony. The involuntary reaction had forced his injured frame to move and set off the pain. Well, not really set off since the agonizing pain appeared every few seconds, but it did feel like the pain went up another level. The lone Castaway swallowed down the rising bile that collected in his mouth while his abdomen rocked like a stormy sea with nausea.

The first mate continued to pant, still struggling to take deep breaths. He knew one or two of his injuries were the cause of his shallow breathing along with the chest pain. The lone sailor had numerous injuries and symptoms to deal with. And frankly, he was surprised to see he wasn't in Heaven like he had thought he'd be when he woke up. Instead, he found himself still stuck on the ledge, badly injured, with no help of any kind available for who knew how long. The youngest Castaway had a wristwatch on him and could check the time. Unfortunately, his watch was on his right wrist and broken, the glass smashed on impact and mingled with the red substance and puke. The parts were scattered and lost. So glancing at his watch was out of the question. Plus, he wasn't even sure he could look, what with his dislocated shoulder and all.

A substance of some sort caught the former Navy sailor's attention when it dropped from somewhere above him and landed on his shirt-covered abdomen. The substance mixed with the sticky blood that continued to seep out of him. Another droplet of whatever it was landed on him. Then another came, and another, and another. The droplets of substance were constant, always appearing thirty seconds, and from the same direction, somewhere above him.

As more droplets rained down upon the first mate, he strained his eyes to get a better look and decipher what the substance was. At the moment, Gilligan just knew it was fluid and red.

A low groan was heard close to him, but the young sailor couldn't figure out where. He knew the sound was nearby since he could hear it perfectly, like the noise was right next to him or above him.

Silence surrounded the Castaway then. Well, almost silence since he could still hear the sounds of the ocean and animals. However, the quietness was completely shattered about a minute later with a slightly louder moan filled with pain. A wave of confusion washed over the first mate after hearing the agony in the sound and observing another droplet of red fluid falling on his stomach.

This time, the sailor traced the path of the droplet with his blue eyes, beginning with his stomach before going upward. Up, up, up, his eyes went as more of the unknown droplets went past him. As the sun shone in his eyes and his head almost completely straight, the youngest Castaway found the source of the droplets.

The sight he came upon wasn't pretty, causing the nausea to rise inside him, crawling up his throat.

A branch hung twenty feet above him on the side of the rocky cliff, no leaves were on it. And appearance-wise, the branch looked to be dead, probably for a while now. Hanging over that branch was a monster. The being was a monster because he was too evil and twisted to be considered a man, a human being. This was the same monster that had hunted and tormented him for the past eighteen hours.

Kincaid.

His tormentor's body hung in front of Gilligan and only a few feet away. Because the hunter wasn't hanging directly above the first mate, he was unaware of the additional presence, especially when he stared at the brightly lit sky.

The former Navy sailor couldn't tell since he was at an angle, but from the amount of blood falling from the hunter's form and the discoloration of his skin, Gillian suspected a limb on the branch had pierced his tormentor's flesh on impact and hit something vitally important.

Instead of the hunter killing his prey in cold blood, it happened to be him that would end up dead.

It was ironic, really. Or would you call it karma?

Either way, Jonathan Lee Kincaid would never be able to hurt him, his family, or anyone else again. While Gilligan wasn't happy that the hunter was dying, (he was certain of the fact since Kincaid was losing a ton of blood) he was greatly relieved that another innocent person wouldn't have to be in his shoes, forced to be a part of this twisted and sinister little game.

The droplets of blood brought the first mate's attention back to the situation at hand. He now knew what the substance was and where it was coming from. The young sailor's eyes widened in horror and disgust at the realization of just where that blood was landing. He didn't want the filth that was Kincaid's blood mixing with his or even coming in contact with his body.

The thought barely crossed the young man's mind when he once again turned his head to the right and vomited. This time, only a small amount of bile came out since Gilligan didn't have a lot of food inside him. The unwelcome action forced his broken and injured form to shake with the tremors and the dry heaving, causing more burning pain to slice through his chest.

A creaking noise emerged, floating in the air.

But the youngest Castaway was too busy gasping breathlessly while his figure rocked with shivers and pain, heart beating at a swift pace.

A loud cracking noise hovered in the air above him, but the first mate was still distracted, once again fighting against the blurriness that appeared in his vision and the overwhelming feeling to faint.

Another loud cracking noise was heard, followed by a snapping sound. A sound of a heavy body connected with another rose in the air followed by a heartbreaking scream.

"AGH!" the former Navy sailor screamed out in pain as Kincaid fell on him, slamming into his many injuries# Blinded with agonizing pain and fright, he used his good leg and the minimum amount of body movement to shift the hunter off of him, causing his tormentor to turn and disappeared from the first mate's sight, falling once again# The gun, which was resting on the lip of the ledge, was right behind Kincaid as one of his lower body parts accidently hit it while falling for the second time#

Several seconds later, a loud thud and the sound of bones breaking was heard, informing the young sailor that his tormentor had made direct contact with the sandy ground below# The lone Castaway didn't know the exact distance he was from the ground, but knew without a doubt that the impact had most likely killed Kincaid#

At least now the hunter's filthy blood wasn't dripping on him anymore# And the monster could no longer haunt the young man with his presence either#

Gilligan laid his head back down and stared aimlessly at the sky, waiting for the other Castaways to come look for him#

**Thirty minutes later**

**(6 hours and 15 minutes left)**

"Skipper? Anyone? Help!" Gilligan called out as loudly as he could, which wasn't in the deafening category with the volume that emerged from him. It was no surprise to the first mate though. How could a person be loud enough for someone to hear him when the caller had a difficult time breathing correctly?

The lone Castaway tried to be patience for help to arrive. But as time slowly went by, that patience was quickly evaporating along with the slightly calm state he held onto. Every minute that passed is a minute closer to Death. From the amount of blood he continued to lose, the meeting with Death seems quite near.

While more time went by, the more Gilligan wanted to do something. Anything that could help him get out of this horrible situation. He couldn't just laid there silently and do nothing while he bleed to death. He had to do something. So he did. He called out to the others. The young man knew it was a waste of energy and breath, but he just couldn't take doing nothing any longer. He _had _to do something or else he would have gone crazy.

The sailor inhaled as deeply as he could, which wasn't much, trying to relieve the unbearable pain in his chest. Sweat beads covered his forehead and cuts, and flowed like a rushing river down into his eyes and face. The dislocated shoulder on his right arm had ignited an excruciating session of twinges that ran from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. The youngest Castaway gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

His eyes left the ledge where he was lying and went up, attempting to see the outer rim of the cliff, but the sun's position had moved again, blinding the former Navy sailor from seeing the outline of the cliff.

_So much blood, _the young man thought in alarm as he observed the substance on and around his figure, and halfway covering the ledge. _I could bleed out by the time help arrives. _

That last thought caused him to shudder in fear at the idea of dying alone from blood loss on this rocky ledge. The first mate never imagined he would die this way. Of course, Gilligan never thought of where he would be when he died. He had always assumed the place would be somewhere familiar and comfortable with family and friends close by, ready to tell him their final goodbye. Gilligan never thought about being stuck on this ledge during his final hours or about being on this uncharted and deserted island. However, he wouldn't complain if his island family was surrounding him as his time came closer and closer.

Maybe his family will find him before it was too late, which hopefully won't be much longer. Not the dying part, but the part where his family was with him. Since the young sailor couldn't check the time on his watch, he had to resort to figuring out the time by using the sun. And if he was correct as the young man observed the position of the sun in the sky, it has already been a little past an hour and a half since he had been stuck on this ledge. The former Navy sailor gulped; it would be hotter soon as the sun rose, and he already was dripping with perspiration. And he was cold…or was something else causing him to sweat and feel cold? Could the coldness be his fear that caused him to shiver?

Whatever it was, the first mate didn't want to leave his family without saying one last thing to them. Unfortunately, none of them were here with him to hear it.

"Please, God…I'm not…asking for…a lot," Gilligan spoke softly, directly upwards. "Give…me something…so I can…let my…family…know how much…they mean…to me…should they be…too late."

A miracle happened as soon as he finished his last sentence.

When the first mate's form trembled with cold, he heard something metal crashing again the rocky, hard surface before seeing a heavy and lumpy outline in his left pocket. He didn't know how the item got into his pocket, and at the moment he really didn't care. Later on when he's healthy again or in Heaven, he might stop and pondered the event. For now, he was just going to let the matter slid by.

Biting his lip as a scream begged to escape from inside, the injured sailor slowly moved his left arm and reached down towards his pocket. Apparently the level of pain from the wound went up another notch since the last time he moved his extremity. With perspiration and little black dots in his eyes, he couldn't see at first what his hand pulled out. Touching the item wasn't accomplishing anything either. The few things the lonely and scared Castaway could tell by feeling the item was its rectangular shape, the cold metal covered, and the item had a few buttons on it.

He pulled it closer to his shoulder and when his vision finally cleared up a few minutes later, the former Navy sailor turned his head to the left and looked down at his hand. There, in his palm, laid a blood-stained tape recorder that was very familiar to Gilligan. That tape recorder was the very one he, the Skipper, and the Professor found on Tongo a few weeks ago. He wasn't really an apeman, but an actor who was playing as one so he could get the part for an upcoming movie. The film would launch his career and make his very famous and rich were he to get it. How the first mate had it now instead of where it was at camp, he couldn't understand. But he was very thankful for it, especially now that he could record his final heartfelt words to his love ones.

With nothing else to do but wait #either for help or to die#, the sailor pressed the record button on the machine and closed his eyes. As long as he held onto life as tightly as he could and kept surviving till his last breath, he was sure he would be alright. The youngest Castaway didn't want to die but knew he couldn't stop it. However, he would rather leave this rocky ledge, topical island, and beautiful Earth knowing he hadn't freaked out #even though he was frightened like a chicken inside# than show his fear to whoever was watching him from above.

His breaths were short and shallow since he couldn't inhale deeply.

_Professor, Skipper, Mr. and Mrs. Howell, Ginger, Mary Ann, please hurry, _the former Navy sailor thought, silently pleading for their presences. _I need you here with me._

Gilligan opened his mouth and whispered these words with parched lips while torturous pain surged through his frame. "This is…William…Alan Gilligan and…in case…I don't make… it, these are my…final words…to you, my…island…family."

* * *

A/N: Oooh! Can you just feel the angst coming from the story? I sure can. Please review and let me know what you think of the story.

I just wanted to add that if anyone said Gilligan should be deed by now with how much blood he's losing, I know. In reality, he could have died from either the numerous injuries, the long fall, or the huge amount of blood loss. I'm no doctor and some parts of the story won't be realistic. I have reasons for that which you all will find out in the later chapters.

Announcement from _Panhead13_: There's almost 400 stories in the GI fanfiction archive. When I first checked it in February or March, it only had 316 fanfics. I was thinking it'd be cool if we could have 500 fanfics on this site by the 50 anniversary of GI this year. I'm calling it the "500 by 50" challenge.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed thirty stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


End file.
